Blinded

Everyone Knows Everyone Here

Steve brought all my bags up to me and he told me some neighbors from down the street are coming over to meet me. He also said Angela was coming over and that made me happy. Last time I saw her was two years ago when she was my age and I was the awkward 14-year-old. I didn’t know who the other neighbors were, but since everyone knows everyone here, the already knew who I was. I wondered if they knew how I came back here.

“Malfoy stared at Dumbledore. ‘But I got this far, didn’t I?’ he said slowly. ‘They thought I’d die in the attempt, but I’m here . . . And you’re in my power. . . . I’m the one with the wand. . . . You’re at my mercy,’” said the narrator from the audio book of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.

“Shirt,” I muttered under my breath, feeling the article of clothing in my hand. I put it on the hanger quite nicely and went over to my closet. It was a small walk in, a small space in the middle surrounded by one row of hangers at the top, a bottom row for shelving things. I put the hanger up and smiled, knowing I was doing it right. Sometimes I accidentally overlap hangers. I had already hung four shirts and two jeans, and nothing was messed up.

I heard the front door open and Romeo began whining and scratching at the door. Neighbors must be here. I heard about five different voices, maybe one or two more. Only a few voices sounded familiar as I opened the door to my room and, very carefully, made my way down the steps.

“It smells delicious in here,” a male voice said. “I don‘t even think my daughter can make something this good, and her cooking is usually really good.”

“Fourteen, fifteen,” I whispered, counting the steps. When I made it to sixteen, I cautiously walked forward to make sure a seventeenth step didn’t magically appear just to embarrass me and ruin my first day in my new home.

“Mariabella!” a girl shouted, and I smiled at the sound of the familiar voice. “Oh my gosh, look at you!”

“Hi Angela!” I shouted in the direction I suspected her to be, which was the kitchen. No, she was in the living room and she spun me around to face her. I was attacked by a hug.

“I‘ve missed you, Maria,” she said, shortening my name. No one really calls me Maria except for her. “Wow, look at your hair. Did you dye it? It looks lighter. It used to be almost black, now it‘s like a light brown.”

“I was in the sun a lot,” I told her, my arms still wrapped around her slender figure.

“Sorry to break it to you, but you won‘t have that luxury here in Forks.” The both of us laughed.

I wondered how much Angela has changed. From what I remember she was slightly tanned and had dark brown hair. Her eyes were brown, I think. I’m sure she looked more mature since she was eighteen and I wondered if she still wore glasses. She was definitely taller. I think I was still taller than her, though. I was five foot five last time I heard from the doctor.

I reunited with Angela’s parents, my other aunt and uncle, and they also commented on my hair, throwing in a compliment about how pretty I looked. No need to mention how much I’ve grown since I’ve stayed the same height. I also met the neighbors: Charlie Swan, someone who worked with Uncle Steve as a police officer, who had a slightly large hand that was a bit rough; Billy Black, Charlie’s and Steve’s friend, who at first I thought was a dwarf because his voice sounded lower down than everyone else’s and his hand came from the bottom, but it turns out he was in a wheelchair; and last was Sue Clearwater, a sweet woman who had soft, small hands. Her and Billy lived on the La Push reservation; they were Quileute Indians. Fantasmical, right?

The Tiela, one of my favorite Italian dishes, was almost done and Angela helped me set the table. I tried to appear responsible, not helpless, and like I knew my way around without stumbling over something I forgot resigned there to my aunt and uncle’s friends by getting plates and such set by myself. To my surprise, I did really well. Angela did not even need to help me. I win.

“Are you nervous for school?” Angela asked me as she set what I was assumed silverware. I heard the scratching of forks hitting one another. “Even though we don‘t have that much of it left.”

I shrugged. “I think because of that it is making me less nervous. That and because I at least know someone there.”

“You make me smile,” she told me. It was her subtle way of telling me she was smiling without bluntly telling me. “People are nice. It‘s small and everyone knows everyone here, so there is sometimes drama, like with Lauren.” I giggled at the way she said the girl’s name. “But other than that, I think you‘ll like my friends. One of them is Charlie‘s daughter. She was going to come, but she‘s with her boyfriend. When you meet her you‘ll meet her boyfriend. They‘re always together, attached at the hip, inseparable. It‘s cute.”

“Cute,” I agreed. I sighed. “I won’t get you next year, though. You‘re graduating this year.”

“Yeah, crazy, right? I mean, I‘m relieved, but I know some of my friends I won‘t see again.” She sighed too. “How will you ever survive without me?”

“Give me all of your test answers and I think it‘ll be a fair deal,” I told her, putting the last plate down. She laughed and I suddenly felt her arms around me. I hugged her back.

Dinner was dinner. I talked when spoken to but other than that I sat quietly, listening to the sound of silverware making contact with the plates, someone chewing with their mouth open (most likely my uncle. He does that sometimes); and Romeo whining softly, begging for food.

I found out Billy had a son, Jacob (I think), who did not go to my school. Charlie’s daughter, Bella, was a senior too and she and Jacob were apparently the best of friends - at one point. Their dads spoke of them as if their friendship had long since been as close as it once was. Hm. Weird, but it wasn’t like it concerned me. Angela didn’t know Jacob so she didn’t know much about the situation. Her, her parents, and myself were the only ones who didn’t know about him.

The time came to say goodbye after all of us talked and had our fill of Tiela. Before Charlie could leave, his footsteps making their way towards the door from what I could hear, a knock was heard. Billy said it was just his son and someone - either him or Charlie - opened the door. Charlie said hello cheerfully and I heard patting of some sort. Maybe someone patted someone’s back?

“Dad told me to come pick him up,” a husky voice explained. It sounded oddly familiar, too. Creeptastic, right? “He said he didn‘t want to bother you with driving him home, but he didn‘t mind bothering me to do it.” I couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be bitter or humorous, and I was usually good with picking that out. It sounded bitterer to me, though.

Billy chuckled, and I was pleased with myself for recognizing a new someone’s voice so quickly. Another thing I’ve become expert at. “You‘ve been doing nothing but mope in your bedroom, Jacob,” Billy said. “I had to get you to do something.”

I heard a grumble and a small hello from the husky-voiced person who I now figured out was Jacob. There were a couple goodbyes from Charlie and Billy and I heard the door close behind them. The screen door creaked. I heard two car doors shut and two cars pulled out of the driveway, one after the other.

“How old is Jacob?” I asked Angela, but the question was open to anyone.

“I think he‘s . . . sixteen, right?” Cara answered, but she was unsure. She was silent. “Yes, sixteen.”

“He sounds older,” I said.

“He looks much older too,” Angela commented, a hint of amazement in her voice. I was about to question it when she said goodbye. “We have school tomorrow. I‘ll even pick you up. Sound good?”

“Great, actually. Will you help me to all my -”

“Of course, of course, don‘t even question it,” she interrupted. I felt her kiss my cheek. “Love you, cousin. I‘ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

I said goodbye to my other aunt and uncle and cousin, walking them to the door. Another win for me because I led them to it effortlessly. I was getting used to this house so quickly, but that could have been because some part of me remembered it from my subconscious, five-year-old memory.

“You better get ready for bed, too, Mariabella,” Cara said. I think it was coming from the dining room. “I‘ll be up in a few.”

I went upstairs - smiling when I didn’t fall - and brushed my teeth, flossed, and I decided to wash my face. Not that I really cared if I had blemishes or not, it just made me feel refreshed. I put my hair in a low ponytail, liking the way it felt when I ran my hand over it, no stray hairs tickling my hand.

Cara was in my room, rummaging through my closet. She helped me pick out an outfit to wear on my first day to Forks High School and I let her since I would probably pick one of my polka dotted shirts and wear it with the plaid skirts I have. I thanked her when she said she picked a cute outfit, pecked me on the cheek, and told me to have sweet dreams.

Of course, I didn’t have a sweet dream; I had another dream about the talking wolf, and this time it turned into a man.

And cue Twilight Zone music!